poem
Volume 23, Number 1

Case 3031: Abduction and Murder in Cuilapa
Santa Rosa, Guatemala, 1981

His eyes had been taped shut. One of his arms
looked broken. He lay there on his side,
his tongue cut out, feet bound. These were the harms
that they had done to him. Others had tried
to name him and had failed. But I, his wife,
I knew him instantly, for we had been
together many years then—half my life—
and I knew his old scars, his hair, his chin,

still. I had brought his photograph with me,
the last we had of him, for their inspection.
Forensic experts scanned it silently,
found in the twisted body his reflection.
This is my husband, I began, I come—
Your husband, yes, one said, yes, take him home.



—Kimberly Poitevin